


Composure

by i_kinda_like_writing



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Rock Band, Angst, Band Fic, Drinking, Everyone's in a Band, Getting Together, Guitars, Happy Ending, M/M, Marijuana, Multimedia, Pneumonia, Recreational Drug Use, Seizures, Song Lyrics, Therapy, Twitter, again an oc, band au, getting better, minor alcoholism, multiple bands, not a lot, original character's though and not graphic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-19
Updated: 2017-01-19
Packaged: 2018-09-18 02:41:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9362612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/i_kinda_like_writing/pseuds/i_kinda_like_writing
Summary: Nursey wakes up alone in his apartment in New York, hungover and a little sad. His phone is buzzing aggressively where it lays next to his head on the mussed bed. He picks it up to seeSuper Cool Awesome Frogs Only Group Chatflooding the screen.Chow :)has sent,Album drop in two months,Holy !!!!!!, andGuys this is awesome!!!!!!Red Head #1has replied once with,it is very cool.Nursey groans when he notices that it’s two in the afternoon. He texts back,shh I’m sleepingand thenbut this is pretty chill.As he drops his head back down to the pillow,Chow :)asks,is the time difference really that big???andRed Head #1has writtenIt’s 2 in the afternoon. Get your shit together, Nurse.*~*~*Or, the band au no one asked for.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! I went looking for a band au nurseydex fic and, when I didn't find enough of them, I decided to write my own. So here it is.  
> A few things to know before getting into the fic:  
> Wells is the name of the band that Jack, Bitty, Holster, Ransom, and Lardo are in. I don't go into it, but Jack plays guitar and sings, Bitty sings, Holster plays keyboard and sings, Ransom plays bass, and Lardo is the drummer.  
> Ranae is the band that Nursey, Dex, and Chowder are in. They're named Ranae because it's the Latin word for Frogs. That conversation went a little something like- "Guys, we should be the Frogs!!!! Cause we're frogs!!!!" "We can't be a punk band called The Frogs" "Chill, man, we can make it punk." *Googles Latin word for Frogs* "We're called Ranae." "Dear God help me" "!!!!!!"  
> Shitty works at Samwell Records/ is the manager of both Wells and Ranae.  
> The title comes from a pun of sorts, cause like, composing songs, and composure is a synonym for chill? Ah, whatever, I think I'm funny.  
> Hope you enjoy!  
> (See notes at the end for more in-depth stuff about the alcohol warnings and therapy stuff)

          Nursey wakes up alone in his apartment in New York, hungover and a little sad. His phone is buzzing aggressively where it lays next to his head on the mussed bed. He picks it up to see _Super Cool Awesome Frogs Only Group Chat_ flooding the screen.

 _Chow :)_  has sent, _Album drop in two months_ , _Holy !!!!!!_ , and _Guys this is awesome!!!!!!_

          _Red Head #1_ has replied once with, _it is very cool_.

          Nursey groans when he notices that it’s two in the afternoon. He texts back, _shh I’m sleeping_ and then _but this is pretty chill_.

          As he drops his head back down to the pillow, _Chow :_ _)_ asks, _is the time difference really that big???_ and _Red Head #1_ has written _It’s 2 in the afternoon. Get your shit together, Nurse._

 

*~*~*

 

_Dex P. @wjpoindexter_

_There’s something wrong when you’re in bed at two in the afternoon_.

 

_Nursey @therealdereknurse_

_fuck off @wjpoindexter “There’s something wrong when you’re in bed at two in the afternoon.”_

_Chris Chow @sharksrule_

_Guys stop fighting on social media!!! @wjpoindexter @therealdereknurse “fuck off @wjpoindexter “There’s something wrong when you’re in bed at two in the afternoon.””_

 

*~*~*

 

          When Nursey walks into the recording studio at eight fucking A.M. he’s still a little hungover from the day before and his sunglasses are doing nothing to alleviate the situation. The usual sounding guys are set up at the board and the recording booth is filled with instruments even though they’re only recording vocals today. Chowder is playing with a keyboard even though he’s mostly useless when it comes to instruments that don’t involve drumsticks. Dex is already inside the booth, tuning up a guitar like he always is, looking unusually peaceful as he listens carefully to the notes.

          Song lyrics pop into Nursey’s head, something with angels of mornings, but that’s already been done and also his head hurts way too much to be thinking of this right now.

          “Alright, now that Derek’s here, let’s get started,” one of the sounding guys says.

          It’s a long morning as they all take turns recording their parts of the songs. Each of them has several takes and then the sounding guys have to make sure it sounds good together and Dex and Nursey keep going off on arguments every other take, so it takes a lot longer than it should.

          Nursey doesn’t know exactly why he antagonizes Dex the way he does, but there’s something about the way Dex’s cheeks flush, the fire in his eyes, his passion. It just makes Nursey itch for something write on. Every time he gets Dex mad, Nursey hears lyrics.

 

*~*~*

 

_Chris Chow @sharksrule_

_Sorry guys the album isn’t coming out anymore. It seems all Dex and Nursey want to do is argue on the soundtrack. :I_

*~*~*

 

          “Chowder should be here,” Nursey mumbles to himself.

          “Yeah, well, we need this song written by next week and we can’t exactly ask Chow to ditch his five year anniversary dinner to help us write. So suck it up.” Dex ends his annoying speech by humming an appealing tune and Nursey hates him for making him want to harmonize with it.

          “Fuck off,” Nursey replies simply, sitting down across from Dex and placing a mug of coffee in front of Dex. He settles back into the big, comfy armchair he bought himself with the money they made from their first big concert and blows on his tea until it’s cool enough to drink. Dex ignores his mug, which is rude because Nursey even put milk in it even though Dex insists he likes it black- which is a dirty, dirty lie. “Maybe we should write a song called “Fuck off”,” Nursey suggests. “It’s in keeping with the mood.”

          Dex glowers at him. “You know it has to be a slow song. We’ve got too many rock ones already and, anyway, we don’t have Chowder to work out the drum beat.”

          Nursey hums, sitting forward. “It could be slow,” he says. “Like, an acoustic “Fuck off”.” He reaches under his coffee table to pull out a leather bound notebook. “I might have some stuff for something like that.” He flips to a page titled “asshole” and slides the book over towards Dex.

          Dex adjusts his guitar and leans over the coffee table. On a separate sheet of paper, he starts writing with his left hand without looking while strumming on the guitar with his right. The coordination it must take to do that is extremely attractive- to Nursey, at least. After about five minutes of Nursey just watching Dex work, Dex pushes the sheet of paper over to Nursey, biting at his lip. “How’s that?” he asks, self-conscious.

          Nursey reads over the lines, easily deciphering Dex’s handwriting after working with him for so long. Dex’s handwriting is sturdy and printed, but when he gets passionate the lines start to slant and smudge where his hand dragged across the paper in his excitement. Nursey can always tell which lines Dex likes the most by how hard they are to read.

          “We’ll have to work on a bridge, but this looks pretty fucking great.” The lyrics incorporate a lot of Nursey’s poetic lines- which have hidden meanings up the wazoo- with snippets of Dex’s harshly honest one-liners that Nursey feels in his chest. They’ll still have to figure out the music behind it as well as a bridge so it doesn’t sound all the same throughout, but, well. It’s a damn good song.

 

*~*~*

 

 _Recipients:_ [ _dmnurse@gmail.com_ ](mailto:dmnurse@gmail.com) _,_ [ _williamp@gmail.com_ ](mailto:williamp@gmail.com)

_Sender:_ [ _bsknight@gmail.com_ ](mailto:bsknight@gmail.com)

_Dear Boys,_

_It’s a great song! I got all the curses cleared with HR and you are free to write your bastardized ballad. Lardo gives it her approval as well. She also wants to know how the fuck you two managed to write together sans Chow without killing each other._

_Love,_

_Your friendly neighborhood Shitty_

 

*~*~*

 

          “Michelle asks, “How is the album coming along?”,” Chowder reads from his phone. He looks up and into the laptop camera, grinning lopsidedly. “It’s going sw’awesomely! We’ve got a lot of good music and we’re having a lot of fun writing and recording.”

          “We’ve finished writing all the songs, now we’ve just got to record them and put in the finer details,” Dex says. He’s got a guitar in his lap because it’s basically attached to him at this point.

          “We’re all pretty excited about it,” Nursey says, smiling his charming grin at the camera. The comments start flooding with swoons. In the picture on the screen, Nursey sees Dex roll his eyes.

          “That’s it for the questions!” Chowder says. “Now we’re going to play a song from our EP last January, _Wanted_ , but I don’t have my drum set with me, so I’ll be using a box drum and Dex only has an acoustic guitar and Nursey doesn’t have his bass, so it’s going to be a weird acoustic version. We hope you guys like it!”

          They move further away from the camera, as they were sitting on the floor in front of it for the majority of the livestream. Nursey sits down on the stool in front of his microphone, as does Dex, and Chowder takes a seat on his box drum, thighs spread so he can reach the core of the drum with his hands. Chowder counts them off, quietly since it’s a slower version, and Dex starts strumming the opening cords.

          Nursey takes a deep breath through his nose and lets it out in the first line of the song, closing his eyes and feeling the music around him. This song was one he wrote, a cryptic type thing that made it seem like it wasn’t about what it was. The song makes it seem like the feeling of being in a relationship and loving the other person more than they love you, always feeling needy and thwarted in your emotions. In reality, it was about growing up with parents who always cared about everything else more than him. But Nursey figures it doesn’t matter what other people think the song is about; he knows.

 

*~*~*

 

_FROGS#1FAN @ccchowchrisss_

_Ranae’s livestream was amazing!!!!!! Nursey’s voice was so deep and beautiful and I cried_

_Ranae is Life @billythekidddd_

_i wish i was dex’s guitar_ _;P;P;P_

_Bitty @EricBittle_

_Wow, @Ranae had a beautiful performance on livestream today! I love when they do acoustic pieces. Check it out here:_ link

 

*~*~*

 

          “The pie is delicious, Bits,” Nursey says, even though Bitty’s pies being good is a given. It’s got blueberries and strawberries in it and before the two bands and various management workers dug into it, it looked like the American flag, in honor of the Fourth of July. The party is at the house that Bitty, Jack, Shitty, Lardo, Holster, and Ransom all rent together- nicknamed The Haus. They all stay here when they aren’t on tour, except for Shitty, who is here full-time for work when management doesn’t deem it important for him to join the rest of the guys on tour.

          Out in the backyard, everyone is sitting around the picnic tables, enjoying the pie even though they’re all full from the barbeque that Holster and Dex made. Nursey is sitting between Bitty and Ransom, both of whom are having outside conversations, which leaves Nursey alone to stare at Dex, who’s sitting at the other picnic table. He’s talking to Jack, probably about the album, since Jack has the most experience with that kind of thing. There are some wrinkles in between his eyebrows, the kind he gets when he’s working on a song, and he looks so intent. Nursey wants to push his fingers into those wrinkles and smooth them away.

          “Thank you, sweetheart,” Bitty says, pleased. He’s flushed in the cheeks because Shitty and Holster made him shotgun a beer because _America_ and he’s had two hard lemonades since, which isn’t a lot but he’s a small dude and it runs through him fast. Nursey himself is a lightweight, but he isn’t drinking, so he’s clear minded. He doesn’t like drinking in front of his friends. He doesn’t like who he becomes when he drinks enough to let himself be that person in front of them.

          “I’m gonna miss your pies next time we go on tour,” Nursey says truthfully. “I don’t know how I’ll get through it without them.”

          Bitty pats his shoulder soothingly. “I’ll send you some,” he says solemnly.

          The talk of the tour draws Holster and Ransom into the conversation and soon Nursey is speaking intently with the two of them about the album and the beginnings of the tour plans.

          “You gotta hit up NYC,” Ransom says. “Hometowns love it when you come back.”

          Nursey laughs, shaking his head. “It’s different in NYC, though. It’s not really a hometown kind of place.”

          They both agree, not hearing what Nursey means. New York has never been home, really, so going back isn’t anything special. If anything, it’s like a prison sentence; trapped in a place filled with bad memories and worse people, all of which he’d rather leave behind. This, here in the Haus’ backyard dreaming of smoothing away the wrinkles in Dex’s forehead. This is home.

 

*~*~*

 

_Nursey @therealdereknurse_

_Who says you can’t go home? There’s only one place they call me one of their own_.

 

*~*~*

 

          There’s a banging sound. Nursey is too asleep to care about it more than noticing it, but it’s present enough that he acknowledges when it stops. The blinds of the windows next to his bed are pulled open and the sun hits his eyes. He groans and pulls his pillow over his face, trying to block it. His pillow is promptly pulled from his grasp.

          “No,” he moans.

          “Get up, Nurse,” the pillow stealer says. _Dex_ , Nursey’s sleep addled mind supplies.

          “We aren’t recording today,” Nursey says, turning over in bed. Now he’s got his other pillow under his head, but he doesn’t use it to cover his eyes. He just watches Dex, who’s standing at the end of Nursey’s bed, obviously angry. His skin is a deep pink, like strawberries. Nursey licks his lips, unconsciously.

          “Shitty wants to go to the beach. He’s taking everybody, but you didn’t answer your phone.” Nursey glances at his phone, sitting on his bed side table innocently. He hardly ever hears it go off when he’s sleeping off a hangover.

          “And what? You drew the short stick?” He looks back over towards Dex, who flushes deeper.

          “I was the closest. Now come on; get dressed and let’s go.” He continues to stand there. It seems he doesn’t understand what “getting dressed” entails.

          “Uh, brah.” Nursey gestures down at his sheet, which is currently the only thing between Dex and an eyeful of Nursey’s personal bits. Dex coughs and turns, leaving the bedroom. Nursey smiles, fond, despite himself.

          When he gets dressed, he leaves his room to find that Dex has put together a bag of beach stuff. Nursey doesn’t know where he got some of that stuff, but he’s delighted to see that Dex has found it. They walk down to Dex’s car without a word, hopping into the front seats in silence. It’s not Dex’s chipping blue pick-up truck, since he has to leave that in Maine, but it’s a nice car, and there’s adequate room. Dex drives with one hand on the gear shift, probably a habit left over from driving a stick for so many years.

          _Concrete jungles just ain’t green, not home when your neighbors don’t know your name, what I wouldn’t give for a back porch sunset, just me my country boy and the breeze…_

          It’s too country for Nursey’s usual taste, and a little too on the nose, but he ruffles through Dex’s glove compartment for a napkin and a pen to write it down anyway. Dex pulls into McDonalds’ drive-in and orders six hash-browns, two orange juices, and his own meal before telling Nursey to get something. They split the hash-browns three-and-three and each eat their own meals. Nursey hasn’t had orange juice without champagne in it in what feels like years and he delights in the taste of it on his tongue.

          _What a bitter drink you are, but good for me, always so good for me…_

          Nursey tells himself that he can’t write a song comparing Dex to orange juice. He just can’t.

          They get to the beach within an hour and everyone’s already there, waiting for them. Jack and Bitty are chatting by the towels they’ve set up, but everyone else is in the water. It seems like Shitty is attempting to catch a beach ball before it floats out to sea and the lifeguard is yelling at him to come back in. So, Nursey and Dex got here just in time.

          “Dex, honey, you better’ve brought a whole bottle of sunscreen,” Bitty says, looking up from Jack. He’s lying on a towel, shirtless, and Nursey admires his physique. Compact and built. Jack seems to be admiring it, too.

          “I’m prepared,” Dex says, pulling out a genuine gallon of sunscreen.

          “Do you need help with some of the difficult places?” Bitty asks.

          “Nah, I got experience. Thanks though.” Then, without warning, he tugs off his t-shirt and starts applying the lotion. Nursey’s so overwhelmed he can’t even think of a lyric. Well, he can. If _uhhhhhhhhhhh_ is a lyric.

          “Nursey, you okay?” Jack asks. Nursey shakes himself and nods.

          “Yeah, yeah. There’s just a lot of light. Hurts my head.”

          Jack raises an eyebrow. “Hungover on a Wednesday?”

          Nursey shrugs. “I didn’t think we were recording today.” Jack’s eyebrow stays raised, but he doesn’t ask why Nursey felt the need to be drunk on a Tuesday night.

          “You boys go splash around; it’s too hot to be dry.” Bitty doesn’t seem to mind the heat too much when he’s lying here talking to Jack.

          “You guys don’t wanna swim? I can watch the blankets,” Dex says. He’s finished applying sunscreen, it seems. Jack shakes his head.

          “We’re good,” he says. His smile is so genuinely happy that it rubs off on Nursey a little and there’s a bounce in his step as he and Dex walk to the water.

          They spend the rest of the day at the beach, swimming around, eating, and laughing as a group. They only get noticed a few times and the fans are really good about not staying longer than they’re welcome. Nursey feels drunk, but in control, and it’s better than actually drinking. He knows that he substitutes alcohol for this, love, happiness, whatever. But sometimes he forgets how much better the real thing is.

 

*~*~*

 

_Rays on my back, warm as any love_

_Dive under, swim through it_

_Maybe this time it’ll be different on the other side_

*~*~*

 

          “Nursey,” Chow stage-whispers, poking gently at Nursey’s shoulder. It occurs to Nursey that many of his days are started by others waking him up. “Nursey, we’ve gotta get ready for the interview.”

          “Ugh.” Nursey rolls over in bed and stares up at the ceiling for a minute. Then he gets up and dresses in the outfit he picked out last night. It’s stylish, but punk enough that it’ll fit with the band’s image. Chowder is already dressed, now he’s just applying eyeliner. He looks really hot and the first couple times Nursey saw him like that he had a very strong desire to fuck his best friend.

          There’s a knock at the door, but Chowder’s busy and Nursey’s somewhat stuck in his skinny jeans. Lucky for them, Dex took their extra key since Nursey isn’t allowed to hold them anymore after that night in Chicago. He just lets himself in, wearing his usual band outfit; ripped jeans, tank top since it’s hot, and a shit ton of bracelets. He doesn’t wear eyeliner, says it reminds him of high school too much, but sometimes he’ll let Nursey smear some highlighter on his cheeks to bring out his eyes. Nursey tests it, today.

          “It’s not even televised, Nurse,” Dex says. Nursey must show his disappointment, because he adds, “But next time, sure.”

          “So what’s the interview going to be?” Chowder asks. He’s still staring into the mirror, trying to get the smudge perfect.

          “It’s for a magazine, low level thing. The Swallow? It’s just for up and coming bands, basically a gossip mag, but any publicity we can get is good before the album drops. We need at least 50,000 sales the week it drops or we can kiss a tour goodbye. Shitty’s trying his best, but there’s only so much he can do.” Dex says all this as he walks around the room, cleaning up. It’s a habit left over from his days at home with his siblings and it shouldn’t be as endearing as it is. Nursey has never been a domestic person, but he can picture himself and Dex talking about their day as they clean up around the house, maybe their kids asleep in their beds.

          “Don’t sweat it, Dexy-Poo. We’ll make the quota easy.” Nursey doesn’t have any doubts that they’ll sell enough albums with the fanbase they borrowed from _Wells_. Dex is always worrying, though. Sometimes Nursey wonders if Dex has to worry or he’ll drive himself crazy with nothing else to do.

          “Not all of us can be chill 24/7, Nurse,” he says, but leaves it at that. “Interview is in a private room here at the hotel, starts in ten so let’s go.”

They leave the room as a group, take the elevator down to the floor with the interviewing room, and walk down, united. It gives Nursey a feeling he remembers from being on the hockey team when he was younger. A sense of belonging, the feeling of being wanted. As much as he fights with Dex, as disappointed as Chowder looks when he finds out that Nursey spent the night drinking, they always want him. They love him, even in Dex’s begrudging way of his, and Nursey loves them. That won’t change.

          The door opens and a pretty girl with on-point eyebrows grins at all of them. “Hey guys, come on in,” she says. “I’m Jessica, I’m the head writer for The Swallow. I’m super excited to interview you guys; you’re the hottest band on the scene right now.”

          “Uh, well, we owe a lot of that to _Wells_ ,” Dex says, rubbing at the back of his neck, sheepish. It flexes the muscles in his arm and Nursey’s eyes track the movement carefully.

          “You’re so humble, it’s sweet.” Jessica sits down in a chair opposite a long couch. Chowder, Dex, and Nursey all flop onto the couch, their legs tangling. Nursey ends up pressed against Chowder with his feet in Dex’s lap. Dex lets his thumb and forefinger circle Nursey’s ankle and it makes his skin tingle where they’re touching. “Your music, your interaction with your fans, your obvious closeness. _That’s_ what makes you guys so popular. And, of course, you’re all unbelievably talented.”

          “Thank you! We try really hard and it’s an absolute privilege to be able to do this,” Chowder says. From anyone else, it would sound like a line, but Chowder is so genuine that you can’t help but believe him. It’s true, too, they’re all so lucky that Holster and Ransom saw them play at a shitty bar in Samwell one night. Even luckier that Nursey had a connection to Shitty and Samwell Records to get them a deal and let them open for _Wells_ for the North American leg of their tour. And it’s amazing, the whole thing, they are so grateful and excited and-and overwhelmed. But it’s sw’awesome, very sw’awesome.

          “Do you mind if I record the interview? Just for accuracy’s purposes.” They all agree, so she turns on a recorder. “Alright, to start off the questions; how did you all get into music?”

          “Uh, well.” Nursey looks at the rest of them for the go-ahead to talk and they give it to him, silently. “I was trained classically as a kid. Piano, violin, upright bass. I had the whole recital thing, suit and tie, performing solos for my parents’ friends to show off.” Nursey laughs, like being a trophy for his parents didn’t fuck him up so bad that he still feels it. “In high school I got into the band scene, started playing keyboard for this girl group. When I got to college, I met the guys here and we sounded good together. Keyboard didn’t go with our sound so I played bass. I still remembered from playing classical.”

          “Wow, that’s an impressive résumé,” Jessica says, laughing a little, awed. Nursey shrugs, embarrassed, and hopes she doesn’t ask about his parents.

          “Not all of us have Nursey’s classical training though,” Dex butts in, noticing Nursey’s awkwardness. “I taught myself to play using my ma’s old, busted up guitar. I didn’t know the names of chords for years. Sometimes I still say the names I made up for them in my head.” Dex blushes, embarrassed, like that isn’t the most adorable thing ever.

          “Ha, my story is a little boring compared to Nursey’s and Dex’s,” Chowder says. “I hit the pots and pans in my kitchen so much that my dad bought me a drum set for Christmas and I’ve been hitting it ever since.”

          “So this has been a dream for a long time for all three of you?” Jessica prompts.

          “Uh.” Chowder laughs. “No, not really.” He glances at Nursey and then Dex. “I started out wanting to be a hockey player in the NHL, goalie. I was pretty good for a while, got into college on a hockey scholarship, actually. Got injured my sophomore year and was told I couldn’t play again. Dex was planning on becoming an engineer when the band got together. You got a degree in that, too, right?” Dex nods in confirmation. “And Nurse has an English degree.”

          “Was gonna be a writer,” Nursey adds in.

          “So no, becoming musicians was never in the plan,” Chowder finishes with a charming smile.

          “Huh.” Jessica makes a note on her writing pad. “So, not much is known about your childhoods. Where did you all grow up? How many siblings do you have? How do your parents feel about your fame?”

          “I grew up in California. I’ve got one younger sister, and, uh, my parents are sad that I’m away a lot. They thought I’d be back home after college. But they’re always really supportive and come to every concert we play in Cali.” Chowder looks at Dex, but Dex is nodding at Nursey to go second.

          Nursey doesn’t like the prompting, but as he starts talking he realizes why Dex did it. “Born and raised in NYC, no siblings, and my parents are, uh, are fine with the whole band thing.” Jessica seems confused and opens her mouth to ask what he means, but Dex cuts her off.

          “I lived in Maine ‘til college and I’ve got five siblings, all younger except one, and my parents are a little confused about how it all works, but they support me 100%.”

          Dex knows that Nursey doesn’t like talking about his parents, so going last put himself in the position of drawing attention away from Nursey. It was deliberate and simplistic, effectively drawing Jessica’s attention away to the large number of siblings Dex has. Underneath the action shows a tacit understanding for Nursey, even just realizing that he doesn’t like talking about his past, and it warms Nursey in a spot just under his breastbone. To feel this warm, he usually has to hit the most expensive of whiskeys. This is way better.

 

*~*~*

 

_Jessica Hewitt @JessTheSwallow_

_Just had an amazing interview with @Ranae! Lovely and talented boys! Buy the next issue of The Swallow for the inside scoop on what makes Ranae tick!_

 

*~*~*

 

          The first weekend after they finish recording the album finds Nursey alone in his Massachusetts apartment. It’s at the top of a four story building, overlooking a park. It’s a loft and it lets in a bunch of light, and bunch of other stuff his realtor said when she showed it to him. It’s only a short walk to the record company and it’s close enough to downtown that cab fare isn’t too much. He’s been out with the guys every night since the last day of recording- celebration and whatnot-, but tonight he’s alone. He doesn’t like being alone. The only way he can describe it is a fog; everything seems so far away when he can’t see it. The fog isn’t fog, though, it’s a haze of memories of being home alone, waiting, wondering why his parents weren’t there.

          They made him equate loneliness with feeling unloved. Absence meant not caring enough to be there. A sad boy in an empty apartment meant unwanted.

          It’s why he drinks, he assumes; when he drinks, it doesn’t matter if he’s in a fog. He can’t see for shit anyway. Nothing hurts when he’s drunk; he doesn’t feel anything when he’s drunk. It replaces the need for love and affection, if just for a while.

          Just as he’s about to dip into his liquor cabinet- it doesn’t do the band well to go out to drink- there’s a knock at the door. It’s probably just the super, wondering about something, but Nursey’s heart leaps at the idea that someone wants to see him. He gets up and scrambles to the door, pulling it open to find-

          “I’m fixing your fucking bathroom,” Dex says, shouldering his way in, toolbox in hand.

          “What?” The fog clears as the whirlwind that is Dex storms past.

          “Last time I was here, your showerhead dripped like my kid brother’s nose in flu season.” He offers no other explanation besides that. Nursey is left with no other option than to close the front door and follow Dex to the bathroom. He sits on the closed toilet seat and watches Dex fix the shower.

          “Isn’t the water gonna spray out?” Nursey asks.

          “I turned off your water main. I’ll turn it back on when I’m done.” Dex works with a single-minded focus that Nursey envies. It makes his forehead crease and Nursey once again wants to smooth out the lines.

          “Why are you here?” he asks after a while of silence.

          “Showerhead, I told you.” Dex doesn’t look away from his work.

          Nursey thinks that, maybe, Dex gets it. It’s probably not true, but Nursey likes that explanation the best out of all the ones he thinks up.

          “Thanks,” he says, quiet. Dex glances over at him.

          “Don’t mention it,” he replies, then gives Nursey a small smile. It’s probably the best present he’s ever gotten.

 

*~*~*

 

_You smile and_

_Like the coastal boy you are_

_It washes away my childhood_

_And pulls out my pain with the tide_

_I wish I could be lost at sea_

_If only I could be lost at sea_

 

*~*~*

 

          Dex doesn’t stop coming over. Whenever Nursey is alone, Dex just shows up with his toolbox and an excuse. As confusing as it is, the only feelings Nursey has about it are pleased and worried. Pleased that he gets to spend so much time with Dex and worried for when the things to fix run out.

          He knows he has to figure out something before that time comes. He can’t keep drinking to keep the loneliness away. It’s not healthy and it’s not a forever thing; the loneliness always comes back, anyway. So, after Dex’s fourth visit, Nursey finds a therapist. It’s a casual thing, once a week, and it takes about half the session for Nursey to start to open up, but he feels like he’s trying. He thinks that’s a big part of it.

          “I got the final cut of _Fuck Me Up_ back from the sound guys,” Dex says after he’s finished perfecting Nursey’s freezing system in his fridge. He’s got his hand curled loosely around the base of a beer bottle and he’s rubbing absentmindedly at the condensation with his thumb. He’s so relaxed it’s intoxicating; the only time Nursey’s seen Dex this loose before was when they were high together.

          “Yeah?” Nursey traces his gaze up Dex’s neck to his face. He’s still staring at the television, where _Shameless_ is playing. “How’s it sound?”

          “Beautiful, actually.” Dex turns to look at him. “I thought it would be weird without Chowder’s voice, but we sound good together.”

          Nursey smiles, but doesn’t respond. He doesn’t know why Chowder refused to sing with them on that song. He said it was theirs, just theirs, and that it wasn’t his place to interfere. Nursey thinks he knew what Chowder meant, but if he’s right, Chowder knows more than he should, and that worries Nursey more than just pretending he doesn’t know.

_Fuck me over like your full time lover_

_Let me scream my faults into your skin_

_Bite me harder, grip me tighter_

_Just promise you’ll never let go again_

          “It’s a good song,” Nursey finally agrees, turning back to the screen. Dex’s lines are his favorite in that song. Most of it is Nursey’s words, rearranged a bit to make more sense, but a few times throughout the song Dex added a simple one-liner, like a punch to the gut. He’s good at that, Nursey thinks.

 

*~*~*

 

_Nursey @therealdereknurse_

_Fight me, for me, like you ever gave a damn. If you hate me, hate me, let me feel it in your hands._

_Shitty @bsknight_

_Tsk, tsk, tsk @therealdereknurse don’t be giving away all our secrets, now_

 

*~*~*

 

          They get a week off before the album drops and Nursey prepares himself for a week of binge drinking and trying to stave off the loneliness. As much as the therapy has helped, he hasn’t been going long enough to talk himself through the bouts of overwhelming isolation he gets when he’s alone. But he only has like two bottles of whiskey in the house. He thinks that’s progress.

          He wakes up the morning of the first day of their break and he’s not up for ten minutes before Dex lets himself into Nursey’s apartment and doesn’t say anything as he heads straight for Nursey’s bedroom. Nursey follows for a lack of anything else to do. When he gets to his bedroom, he finds Dex there, packing up a duffle bag with Nursey’s clothes.

          “Go put your toiletries in a Ziploc bag,” he says without looking away from his task.

          “Why?” Nursey asks, hopelessly confused.

          “Cause if one of them opens on the way there, you don’t want it going all over the place.” Dex folds Nursey’s shorts up nicely before putting them too in the duffle bag.

          “Are we going somewhere?” Nursey asks, hoping for an actual answer this time.

          “Yeah,” Dex says, adding a t-shirt. He looks up. “Maine.”

 

*~*~*

 

_Nursey @therealdereknurse_

_I’m going to need a shitload of coffee._

 

*~*~*

 

          Dex gets him a shitload of coffee at a Duncan Donuts somewhere in New Hampshire. Nursey is still mostly in a daze by that time. Dex just showed up, packed a bag, and dragged Nursey into his car without asking Nursey if he wanted to go at all. He _does_ , but this is all so bizarre.

          He knew that Dex was going home for the break, because he missed his family and because his littlest sister was in the playoffs of her baseball league and Dex wanted to go to support her, but he never expected for Dex to take Nursey with him.  He was prepared for a week of loneliness and drinking by himself in the apartment. This is so much better, but the suddenness of it all is making his head spin.

He is excited to finally meet Dex’s family, though. Nursey knows most of their names through various Skype meetings and Dex’s offhand comments about their lives. He knows that Colleen, Dex’s oldest sister, sells pot for extra cash and that his brother, Max, is a little shit who plays lacrosse and doesn’t know how to pick up. He knows that Mary likes to write, has spoken to her a couple times about books when Dex left the room with Skype on. Scott has asthma, which he learned from the time Dex was up at two in the morning on the phone with Colleen when Scott had an attack land him in the hospital. And Sadie, the youngest, is a sassy sweetheart who has gotten sent to the principal’s office on multiple occasions for punching boys in the face.

          “It runs in the family,” Dex had said at the time, pride in the set of his shoulders.

          “Do they know I’m coming?” Nursey asks when they hit Maine.

          “Yeah, told Ma last weekend. There isn’t an extra bed, so we could share or I could sleep on the couch. S’up to you.”

          “I’m not gonna kick you out of your own bed,” Nursey says. Dex planned this? And he didn’t tell Nursey about it?

          “Then we’ll share. You’re too spoiled to sleep on the couch; you won’t last a night.”

          “Hey-” Nursey begins to protest, planning to cite that time he slept in the tub in Bitty’s hotel room, but then he sees the shit-eating grin on Dex’s face and relents. “Fuck you.”

          “No cursing in front of the kids,” he says, still grinning. Nursey pokes him in the cheek. Dex glances at him, quick because he’s driving, but he’s still smiling widely. Nursey finds that making Dex smile is even better than getting him mad.

 

*~*~*

 

_Ma:_

_Did you leave already?_

_You:_

_Yeah, we’re making good time. This is Derek, by the way. Will is driving._

_Ma:_

_Hi sweetheart! We’re so glad to have you with us this week. I’m going to need your help to keep Will from working too hard ;) You two have been working hard enough recently._

_You:_

_He hardly listens to me, but I’ll try._

_You:_

_It’s hard work, but it’s a great experience._

_Ma:_

_Just like Will, then. Too humble._

_Ma:_

_Give Will my love, please. And you can have some too. :)_

 

*~*~*

 

          Dex pulls up in front of a two-story house, a little rough around the edges, but it looks loved. They get out, each picking up their own bags, and walk into the house. No one comes to greet them at the door, which Dex explains is because everyone is at work or, in his younger siblings’ cases, getting in the last of their summer fun.

          “We’ve got the place to ourselves until one of them figures out I’m home. I wanted to surprise them, but I think I miscalculated.” He starts up the stairs, so Nursey follows him. “Mary took my room when I moved out, so she’s kind of renovated the place.” He pushes open the door to a room with soft blue walls and several posters for what seems to be books. There’re a couple stuffed animals on the bed and some cutesy pillows. It’s a nice room, Nursey thinks.

          “Where’s she gonna sleep?” Nursey asks.

          “Back in her old room with Sadie.” Dex puts down his bags on the end of the bed and takes Nursey’s to do the same. “She volunteered when I suggested staying in the town motel instead. I figure, if I’ve got the money now, might as well make it easier on my family, right?” He sighs, turning back to Nursey, and gives him a smile.

          “Thanks for bringing me here, man,” Nursey says. “I’ve never been…” He trails off, looking around. “Home, I guess.”

          “Well, get ready for a home overload. These kids aren’t going to let you hold back.” Dex says it as if it’s going to be a challenge, but it all sounds like heaven to Nursey.

 

*~*~*

 

_Nursey @therealdereknurse_

_@wjpoindexter Thanks for the coffee_

*~*~*

 

          Dex and Nursey are sitting in the living room when the front door opens.

          “Anyone home?” whoever it is calls into the house.

          “In here!” Dex calls back. Into the room comes a girl that vaguely looks like Dex; she’s got the same color hair and freckles, but her eyes are bright green and the way she holds herself is completely different. Dex walks like he’s ready for a fight; this girl stands like, if a fight came near her, she’d disappear into thin air. Her unfamiliar eyes widen when they see Dex. “Will!”” she yells before diving onto the couch.

          “Hey Mare,” Dex gets out while the girl, his sister, smothers him with a hug. “I forgot to mention I’d be home, didn’t I?”

          “Shut up,” the girl says. “ _I missed you_.”

          Nursey decides to get up and let them have their moment, so he heads to the bathroom and just waits. He’s never seen love like that before, not between family, at least. So fierce that all you can do is hug the other person to yourself and not let go until you feel like you can without your heart aching. Nursey stares in the bathroom mirror for a while, aching.

 

*~*~*

 

_You:_

_Remember that thing we talked about one night at Andover?_

_Shitty:_

_yeah_

_You:_

_I think I found it._

 

*~*~*

 

          Dinner is nice; loud. Dex has five siblings, so the dinner was big to begin with, but since the Poindexter’s big fancy college boy/rock star came home, most of the clan piled into Dex’s home to greet him. Nursey has met so many cousins that he’s sure he couldn’t remember his own name at this point. They all smile at him really wide, knowing who he is before Dex introduces him. Three of Dex’s cousins blushed and giggled when they met him, which embarrassed Dex each time.

          When the food is done, Nursey is planted in between Aunt Cindy and Cousin Weston while Dex is being smothered by both of his grandmothers. Weston is a couple years younger than Nursey and he actually just got into college. Nursey didn’t catch the name of the university, though, since Weston is now preoccupied with his girlfriend, who’s on his other side. Nursey may not be used to family, but he’s pretty sure that making out with your girlfriend at a family picnic isn’t encouraged.

          “Will’s never brought anybody home before,” Aunt Cindy says, handing Nursey the plate of corn. Nursey takes a cob and leans over the couple on his right to hand it to the next ginger in line.

          “What do you mean?” he asks her over the sound of some of the other aunts, who have started singing along to Bon Jovi.

          “He’s never liked anyone enough to bring them back to this craziness,” she says. “You must be pretty special.”

          “Or he just doesn’t care about me enough to worry,” Nursey says, only half-joking.

          “No, I see the way he looks at you.” She passes him the mashed potatoes. “Whenever he comes home, he can’t keep his eyes off his brood. Even Max, and no one likes Max. His eyes never leave the people he loves.” She looks up from her plate, where she’s pushing butter into her mound of potatoes. She smiles. “He’s looking at you as much as any of them. Maybe even more.”

          Nursey blinks, staring at the bowl of mashed potatoes. “Shit, wait, did you just say love?”

          Aunt Cindy sends him a flat look. “Don’t pretend like you two aren’t in love.”

          A lot of things go through Nursey’s mind. Like, he can’t stop thinking about how he knew that Dex’s family was full of bigots and here Aunt Cindy is, completely okay with them being in love. Or that time that he walked in on Dex with another guy in his hotel room and Dex told him to never bring it up again and Nursey decided that Dex had internalized so much shit that he couldn’t be happy. But mostly he’s thinking about how much he wishes Dex loved him and how much he knows for certain that Dex doesn’t, at least not in the way he wants Dex to love him.

          A black woman with beautiful hair comes up behind Cindy and bends down, pressing a kiss to the side of her mouth. Nursey wonders at how many other things he knew could be wrong, too.

 

*~*~*

 

_Wishin’ you were here with me_

_On this creaky balcony_

_Three seconds from fallin’ down_

_But I’m too high to care_

_Wish-a-way, a-wish-a-way_

 

*~*~*

 

          They’re on a beach, now, three days after the party. Colleen got home from what she called a “run” and pushed a joint into Nursey’s hand and told him to take Dex out for the night. So Nursey told Dex about it and Dex took them here. They’re alone, behind some rocks, and the water is steadily creeping closer. Dex doesn’t seem to mind, so Nursey doesn’t either. They’re both high, the joint all but burnt out, and Nursey flirts with the idea of shotgunning the last of it.

          “You talk to C since we got here?” Nursey asks, instead of asking if Dex really loves him. Their relationship has always benefitted from not saying what they really wanted to say.

          “Yeah, he and Cait are staying with Chow’s dads for the week. Also, the fans are going crazy over a pic of C, Cait, and C’s little sister, so they’re doing great.” Dex fiddles with the joint. “You talk to your parents yet? About being here?” Nursey looks away. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Dex turn towards him. “Nursey?”

          “You know my parents don’t care about me, right?” He doesn’t know why he’s saying this. Being high has never made him truthful before. Maybe something else is fucking him up right now. It’s always something, he figures.

          Dex pauses for a moment. Maybe he’s shocked at the honesty; maybe he just doesn’t know what to say. “I figured it was something like that,” he says finally. “No one gets into this scene ‘cause they’re happy with their situation.”

          “What were you unhappy about? With your family, fuck. I’d never drink again.” He takes the joint back. He doesn’t feel like shotgunning anymore.

          “When I was twelve, Scott almost died. He’d gotten pneumonia ‘cause his jacket had too many holes in it. Paired with his asthma, he was as good as gone. I was the only one in the house. I knew we couldn’t afford an ambulance, so I carried him to the clinic ten streets away in January. It was snowing, I think. I don’t remember much. Point is, we didn’t have a lot of cash. When you had a deal with Shitty and I knew it would make money, I jumped. S’why I live in that dump you insult every time you walk in; my paycheck comes here.”

          Nursey doesn’t insult it, but he worries. It’s a real shit apartment and in the bad part of town. Every time he visits, he worries that Dex is going to get shot. Dex always does mistake worry for pity.

          “My parents couldn’t have another kid so they hated me for reminding them of it. I’ve spent my life searching for some kind of wanting and I found music. People want me now. It’s-it’s enough, sometimes.”

          “ _We_ want you,” Dex says, emphatic for someone who’s high. “We love you, me and Chow. The guys at the Haus, Shitty and them. You’ve got real love, man. Don’t discount that.” Nursey turns to look at him. Dex is staring at the sea, now, waves in his eyes. A boy of the sea if there ever was one.

          “I’m trying not to,” Nursey says, turning to look at the water, wishing he saw the same thing Dex did.

 

*~*~*

 

_Shitty:_

_no shit_

_Shitty:_

_congrats man_

_Shitty:_

_don’t fuck it up_

 

*~*~*

_TRENDING IN MUSIC:_

_Breakout band Ranae has its first concert date of tour expected to last six months, travelling across North America. B. Knight, the manager of the band, gives us a quote…_

 

*~*~*

 

          Someone is poking Nursey in the face. He’s fucking exhausted, but there’s no hangover. He’s on a bed, which is an improvement from the last time he woke up after the first concert date of a tour. He pries open his eyes, then shuts them for a moment when the sunlight hits them. When he finally successfully gets them open, Shitty is in front of him peering curiously down at him.

          “Are you hungover? You’ve got an interview in like an hour. What do you need to be there?” he asks.

          “M’not hungover,” Nursey says, rubbing at his face and sitting up. “M’fucking exhausted.” He glances around the room. It’s the hotel room he was assigned to three nights ago when they got here. He gives himself bonus points for sleeping in his own bed. “Where’s Chowder? And Dex?”

          “Dex is currently talking C through about four glasses of water and a fucking pint of coffee ‘cause he’s still drunk from last night. I was assigned to Nursey duty since I failed at patrol. Where’d you get off to, anyway?” By the time Shitty’s finished speaking, his voice is far away. He’s apparently now looking through Nursey’s suitcase for clothes.

          “I left early,” Nursey says, stretching out his back. “Had a thing I wanted to fiddle with.” He glances at the sheet music scattered to the right of his bed. He used a travel keyboard- it only has a handful of keys but changes pitch using different buttons- to write the music for it. It’s probably not that great; none of his songs written from adrenaline and craziness are great.

          “That’s a nice change.” Shitty sends him a look. It’s full of skepticism and confusion, and it hurts a little bit, but Nursey knows he deserves it. Shitty, who was the first person to care about him aside from a couple nannies, has been put through more than anyone else when it comes to Nursey.

          “I meant what I said when I told you I’d found it,” Nursey says, trying to sound sincere. He’s never lied to Shitty about something this serious before. He’s lied about who he was with, what he was doing, and if he was okay, but never about this.

          Shitty stops what he’s doing and comes over, sitting down on the bed. “Yeah? What’s it like?” He no longer sounds skeptical, just reverent. In awe, maybe. Nursey knows the feeling.

          “You know when you’re at the Haus and it’s fucking cold but you’ve got all those blankets around you and the rest of the guys are tucked around you so you don’t feel any of it?” Shitty nods. “It’s like that. You’re warm when all you’ve ever felt is cold but now that you’re warm you don’t remember any of it.”

          Shitty sits quietly for a minute. “Does it-does it go away? Does it leave?”

          “Yeah, sort of. Like, it’s not as bright, but you still feel the remnants of it.” It’s why he doesn’t feel the need to drink anymore, he thinks but doesn’t say. It’s also because of the therapy, working through the causes of his need for bleariness, but it’s also because of his new knowledge. He knows now that the warmth of drinking doesn’t come close to the warmth of a loving family.

 

*~*~*

 

_Shitty @bsknight_

_Interview today with the @Ranae boys! They’re all a little tired but still pumped for the rest of the tour! Watch it live here: link_

 

*~*~*

 

          Someone’s calling Dex. Up until the call, they were going over some lyrics Nursey was fiddling with. He’s got the general tune of the song in his mind, but he needs help with the instrumentals. It’s his first attempt at a rock song since he went home with Dex. He hasn’t felt in the rock mood.

          “Hey Ma,” Dex says, fiddling with the guitar strings. He always has a guitar in his lap. “Nah, I’m with Nursey. Working on a song.” Dex laughs. “No, I don’t think it’s one you’d be able to play for the ladies at church.” He hums. “Good, busy, but amazing. Chowder’s good, going a little crazy, but he’s allowed. Nursey? Yeah, yeah, hold on.” He pulls the phone away from his ear and turns to Nursey. “Ma wants to talk to you.”

          Nursey balks for a second, accepting the phone without thinking about it. He holds it up to his own ear. “Hello?”

          “Derek? Hi sweetheart. How are you?”

          “Uh, uh good, good. Tour’s been fun. How’s everyone back home?” Nursey winces at his wording. It’s not his home, he knows that.

          “Wonderful! Scott’s soccer team is at the top of the league and Mary just won this writing contest, came in third for the whole state! Billy’s been working too hard, trying to save up for the holidays, but he took us all out to an apple orchard a couple miles out. All you can pick apples for a five dollar entry fee. Glorious.”

          “That sounds awesome, Mrs. P.”

          They talk for twenty minutes, Dex strumming his guitar casually, like this isn’t weird at all. When Mrs. P finally has to go, she says, “Goodbye, love you! Tell Will I love him too!”

          Nursey hands the phone back. “Your mom says she loves you,” he says.

          “Thanks.” He tucks his phone away. “So I was thinking about the bridge, thought maybe we could slow it down for a few bars ‘cause I really like that line you wrote. It should definitely be highlighted.” He starts playing a tune on the guitar.

          “I’m sorry I hogged your mom’s time,” Nursey says, still dazed. Dex glances at him, eyebrow quirked.

          “S’fine, man, I talked to her this morning. She wanted to talk to you.” He looks back at the music. “ _Raised myself not to grasp too tight for fear of only feeling air between my fingers_. I really do like that line, man. How’d you come up with it?”

          Nursey shrugs, reeling. “Just thought it, I guess.”

 

*~*~*

 

_Recipient of call: Mother_

_Duration of call: 2 minutes 43 seconds_

_Recipient of call: Mrs. P_

_Duration of call: 40 minutes 32 seconds_

 

*~*~*

 

          “So how are you, New York?” Chowder yells into his microphone. The crowd screams back. “It’s great to be here! Do you guys wanna hear a story about the first time we played in New York?” The crowd screams again. Chowder grins gleefully at the reaction.

          As he begins to detail the story of their first gig in NYC- at a shitty little bar where the patrons had to push the tables out of the way to start dancing- Nursey looks over towards Dex. It’s February, so it’s kind of cold, but they’re inside, so it’s not too bad. Dex is wearing this moss green sweater with all of these holes torn into it and these sinfully tight jeans with his work books laced up lazily. With the highlighter he let Nursey put on his cheeks and the sweat of his brow, his face shines and Nursey can see his eyes all the way across stage. He knows that Chowder’s story will last at least another couple of minutes, so Nursey walks over to bug Dex.

          He startles him by poking him in the cheek, right smack dab in the middle of a cluster of freckles. Dex pokes his tongue in the same spot, making his cheek poke out, and Nursey laughs. He plays with strings of Dex’s guitar at the base, forgetting that it’s still plugged in, and it interrupts Chowder’s story.

          “Nursey, do you mind?” Chowder asks, faux-annoyed.

          Nursey puts on his best grin and leans over to Dex’s mike, getting in Dex’s space. “Sorry babe,” he says. The crowd screams. Next to him, Dex rolls his eyes.

          “Tell ‘um ‘bout the crane game, Chow,” Dex prompts, leading Chowder right back into his story. They both lean away from the mike as Chowder resumes. Dex leans over, pulling out one of Nursey’s ear plugs and getting in close. “Wanna change it up a bit? Play _Fuck Me Up_ next?”

          “Sure,” Nursey says back, knowing that Dex can only tell what he’s saying by reading his lips. Nursey pops his ear plug back in and gives Dex’s arm a squeeze before making his way back over to his bass.

          “…and then this mean man on the bus tried to take my monkey and Dex got all up in his face even though the dude was, like, two times his size, and he broke the guy’s nose! We got kicked off the bus, but it was sw’awesome.” Chowder grins as the story ends and the crowd erupts in response.

          “Ha, thanks for that one, C, my ma will love to hear that.” The big screen, which pans to Dex when he starts talking, shows Dex’s blush spread prettily across his nose. “How about we let you sit the next one out, yeah? They must be tired of your voice by now.”

          “Sure, I’ll sit back and watch.” Chowder leans back in his chair, tucking his hands behind his head like he would if he were reclining. Dex rolls his eyes.

          “Alright, so this one’s called _Fuck Me Up_. Just me and Nurse this time.” Dex’s second sentence is cut off, because the whole venue starts screaming when he says the name of the song. He looks to Nursey, who nods, and starts playing the intro chords, Nursey joining in. He moves his mouth closer to the mic.

          “ _Dig your nails in, scrape your teeth, make me sore, make me weep. I fucking hate your shitty face, the rumpled sheets, your missing place._ ” Nursey glances at Dex as he joins in on the harmony.

          Dex sings the chorus alone, soft and quiet, like his voice in the early mornings. “ _Fuck me over like your full time lover, let me scream my faults into your skin. Bite me harder, grip me tighter, just promise you’ll never let go again_.”

          Chowder adds a slight baseline using just the symbol, a nice compliment. The next time the chorus comes along, Nursey improvises a harmony, earning him a quick grin from Dex.

          The bridge surprises him, since he’s disarmed by Dex’s mouth, and he startles into the first line. “ _This shit is messing me up, did I ever know the truth. Don’t know what you want, what I want, just… Fight me, for me, like you ever gave a damn. If you hate me, hate me, let me feel it in your hands._ ”

          As the song ends, the audience explodes, overpowering the last couple chords. Dex grins out at the crowd, beaming. As much as he says that he only does this for the money, Nursey knows that he loves this.

 

*~*~*

 

_MY CONCERT @RannyBoy_

_I went to the NYC show tonight and it was so amazing!!!! Nursey and Dex performed Fuck Me Up and I almost cried_

_NYC Show @chowhoe_

_fuuuuuck chow and those drumsticks hot damn_

_AAAAHHH @ranaesbitch_

_Anyone know where the boys are hanging out after the show??????_

 

_Nursey @therealdereknurse_

_Your stalking could use some work @ranaesbitch “Anyone know where the boys are hanging out after the show??????”_

 

*~*~*

 

          They’re in one of the quieter bars Nursey’s ever been to in his life. A band playing a series of Twenty One Pilots covers is on stage and people are mostly half-listening as they sit around circular wooden tables, sipping their drinks. Nursey is in a booth, squished between Dex and the wall. Chowder’s on the other side, raving about this fan he met backstage who has a beautiful singing voice. He always meets an awesome fan backstage, but he never ceases to tire of them.

          When Chowder gets up for a refill, Dex knocks his glass against Nursey’s and says, “You sounded really good tonight.”

          The compliment warms Nursey more than the beer does. “Thanks, man. Good call with _Fuck Me Up_.”

          “I saw a fan’s sign saying that it was their favorite. Thought I’d fulfill their wish.” He takes a sip from his glass, Jack and coke, because he is the only one in the band that is not a lightweight.

          “You’re so sweet,” Nursey croons, dropping his head onto Dex’s shoulder. Dex rolls his eyes, but doesn’t shove him off. Nursey counts it as a win.

 

*~*~*

 

_I MET RANAE @KimmyJJ_

_I met Ranae at a bar last night!!!!! Here’s the picture: link._

 

*~*~*

 

          Nursey writes love songs all the time; he knows that. Everyone knows that. Much of his songbook is filled with sappy shit about vague figures, mostly feelings-based, to keep the anonymity of his attraction. Chowder writes a few things about love, the perfection of it, his favorite experiences. He doesn’t like airing his and Farmer’s dirty laundry through song, since everyone knows that they’ve been dating since forever. It wouldn’t help Farmer’s career if Chowder threw a tantrum in song every time they argued.

          Dex usually stays away from the topic, only writing love stuff when Nursey’s already written it to add on. He sticks to other topics, fitting in, being poor, his struggles. In all the time they’ve known one another, Nursey’s never seen him go on a real date. He assumes that Dex doesn’t write about love because it doesn’t affect him on a daily basis. He isn’t in love with his best friend/band mate. Why would he dwell on the feeling in the infinite pages of a book?

          So when he’s chilling in Dex’s hotel room, waiting for him to come back from a food run, and he stumbles upon a couple pages of a love song, Nursey is surprised. Dex doesn’t keep his lyrics in a book, but rather several random sheets of paper that he holds together in his bag until he can get home and work through it. Usually, it’s several lines or just two that he likes a lot; never a whole song. This, though, seems to be a whole thing.

          It’s titled _Oblivion_ and, as Nursey reads through it, it’s a painful lament of loving someone when you know they don’t love you back. Nursey hardly ever sees a song written completely by Dex and the blatant display of emotion is a little overwhelming at first. Like, _the indifference in your eyes has become my favorite color_ , or _your absentminded touches leave bruises on my skin_. It knocks the breath out of him because he understands this, he feels this so acutely, that it feels like Dex _knows_.

          Which means Dex feels this way about someone. He was never good at imagining emotions; his songs always came from experience. So Dex is in love with someone who doesn’t love him back, or has no idea of his feelings. This person could be one of two people; Nursey or not Nursey. In probability’s terms, it’s not Nursey. It is highly unlikely that the center of Nursey’s affections returns them, especially considering all the other possible people it could be. In Nursey’s terms, it’s probably not him either, as his parents and other factors- because he knows he can’t just keep blaming his parents for everything, he is an adult- left him with a deep seated insecurity that he isn’t wanted, generally.

          Dex returns before Nursey can completely think on the matter and what he wants to do about it, so he does nothing. If he does nothing, everything will stay the same.

 

*~*~*

 

_You:_

_what if he loves me too_

_Shitty:_

_then you figure it out. you deserve this_

_You:_

_i’m scared_

_Shitty:_

_i know_

_Shitty:_

_but you can do this_

*~*~*

 

          It happens in a hotel room in Chicago. It doesn’t happen the way Nursey wanted it to or like he expected. They’re getting high on Dex’s bed, talking about the hockey game they want to go to next week, and Nursey is staring too intently at the smoke curling from Dex’s lips.

          When Dex hands him the joint, Nursey just leans in, presses their mouths together. Dex responds after a moment, tucking his free hand behind Nursey’s neck to keep him there, and it’s easier than it should be. He pulls back after a short time and snubs out the joint, putting it on the bedside table. When he returns to the bed, he positions Nursey in the middle of it and climbs into his lap before resuming their kiss.

          They’re both high and not really rushing, so they languidly move against one another, mouths connected lazily, intently, electrically. Nursey feels their kiss everywhere. He finally understands what people mean when they say fireworks. Or maybe just the fire part.

          In the morning, he can’t find his shirt and Dex is rushing around the room, muttering about alarms, and they must be late for something or other, because he throws one of his shirts at Nursey and tells him to hurry up. They’re late for a breakfast interview with a music magazine’s punk correspondent, and it’s being video-taped, so they have to look presentable. Afterwards, they all grab a late breakfast. He sits in the booth next to Dex, like always, and they bump into one another the whole time, like always, because Dex is a lefty and Nursey is a righty and Dex sat on his right, like always, even though they know it’s going to devolve into an argument, like always.

          When they go back to the hotel to pack for going back on the road, they don’t talk about it. That, too, becomes an always.

 

*~*~*

 

_Nursey @therealdereknurse_

_Q &A? I’m bored and Chow won’t play with me._

_CCChowder @iloveccchow_

_What’s chowder doing? @therealdereknurse_

_Nursey @therealdereknurse_

_Skyping with his girlfriend. ~_~ It’s very gross @iloveccchow “What’s chowder doing?”_

_Dex me up @willpsguitar_

_Have you written any songs since being on tour? @therealdereknurse_

_Nursey @therealdereknurse_

_Yeah a couple. We’ve been writing lyrics but not really music. We’re very busy @willpsguitar “Have you written any songs…”_

_Casual Fan @imahugeliar_

_@therealdereknurse have you ever been in love?_

_Nursey @therealdereknurse_

_I think so @imahugeliar “@therealdereknurse have you ever been in love?”_

 

*~*~*

 

          Nursey thinks about if it’s better or worse, knowing. He knows so much now. The feeling of Dex’s calluses on his skin. How Dex tastes when he’s high and horny. What Dex’s hair looks like in the morning sunlight. The sounds he makes when he’s turned on beyond belief.

          He writes poems about what he knows. They’re not quite songs, mostly because he would never put music to them, but they’re lyrical and sappy and incredibly revealing. He throws most of them out, rips them a few times just to make sure his secret won’t get out. Yes, he knows all these things, but he doesn’t know everything. What holding Dex’s hand feels like. How to say _I love you_ out loud and blatantly. Where they stand, what they are.

          The holes in his knowledge far outweigh the knowledge itself.

 

*~*~*

 

_If touches were words you would have spoken mountains_

_Painted beautiful landscapes of snowcapped peaks_

_Rising and falling as your excitement wanes and grows_

_I could live there, like a hermit, happy_

_Far away, surrounded by you_

_But there are no mountains_

_Just touches_

_And touches aren’t forever_

_Like mountains are_

 

*~*~*

 

          “Here,” Chowder says, late one night. Well, early one morning. He hands Nursey a few sheets of paper and one napkin. Nursey takes it without thinking.

          “What’s this?” he asks, stupidly. Chowder’s done this many times.

          “Lyrics,” he says, “it’s fast paced and I already worked out the drum beat. I need your help with the music.”

          “What about Dex?” There’s a special kind of strangeness in the fact that Nursey had his mouth on the inside of Dex’s thigh twelve hours ago but he doesn’t know where he is now.

          “He went out to dinner with someone,” Chowder says, sitting on the couch next to Nursey. It’s a really comfy couch; only the best for their tour bus. “They aren’t back yet.”

          Something twists in Nursey’s chest. He suddenly has a deep sympathy for Caesar. Getting stabbed must really not be fun.

 

*~*~*

 

_Just fucking say it!_

_Scream it in my face_

_Write it in blood, or crayon_

_Think it to yourself_

_Think it to the world_

_Let the truth of it_

_Tie itself in a knot_

_‘Round your finger_

_So you never forget again_

 

*~*~*

 

          There’s times when Nursey thinks it could be enough. Knowing what he knows, just knowing that and nothing else. Being a stand in for the someone Dex really loves. Dex _does_ love him, he knows that, maybe not in the way he loves Dex, but there is love there. Love and sex. It could be enough, maybe.

          Most of the time he knows it could never be enough. He’s an all-or-nothing kind of person, despite his attempts at being chill. He’s as 110% as Jack when it comes to certain things. Absentminded phone calls and gift card birthdays weren’t enough. Drinking the loneliness away was never forever, not when he woke up to all his demons staring him in the face. Meaningless one-night stands, the casualness of his Andover friendships, writing as a hobby. None of it worked out, because he needed _more_.

          He needs more from Dex. He knows himself well enough to know that, and he also knows that when Dex finds something _more_ for himself, Nursey will be broken. He hates that he needs so much, that he needs others so much, but he knows it’s true.

 

*~*~*

 

_Mrs. P:_

_Hi sweetie! We haven’t talked in a while. How’s it going?_

_You:_

_Just tired. Touring is taxing._

_Mrs. P:_

_Ha, nice alliteration there! I’d almost think you were a poet._

_Mrs. P:_

_I’ve got to go get Max from lacrosse practice, but text me later! I want to hear about your life. Love you hon_ _< 3_

 

*~*~*

 

          They’re in the middle of a somewhat small show in Colorado when Chowder gets notified that his younger sister, Caroline, had a seizure. It’s a fairly common thing, since she has epilepsy and they haven’t found a good medicine balance yet, but it’s scary nonetheless. Chow decides to stay backstage for a few minutes, to get the details and make sure everything’s okay, and Nursey stays with him for moral support.

          Dex goes on stage by himself.

          Through the speakers, Nursey can hear everything he’s saying.

          “Hey guys, Chow and Nursey are too lazy to come back out, but since _I_ love you guys, I came out to sing for you.” The crowd screams, as they do after everything any of them say. “Yeah, I know. I’m pretty sw’awesome.” Nursey grins, as he always does when Dex says sw’awesome. “So, uh, since I kinda need the other two for basically every song we have, I thought I’d fiddle around with something that hasn’t really been developed yet. What do you guys think?”

          Screams again, expectedly.

          “Alright then. So, uh, I wrote this by myself. Big feat there, huh? PR hasn’t heard this yet. No one’s heard this yet, actually, so excuse me if it sucks.” He laughs, the little insecure one he does whenever Nursey compliments him. “Um, I don’t know what more to say about it? You’ll probably figure out the meaning of it a line in. Nursey says I’m not very good at hidden meaning. So, uh, here goes, then.”

          He coughs, once, to clear his throat and starts strumming.

          It’s the song he wrote, the full page thing, _Oblivion_. All he’s got is the guitar and his voice, and the audience seems to quiet itself to hear the words. It’s a broken kind of song, the melody soaring and falling with the emotion of the words. Dex’s voice reaches its max, his voice scraped raw and rough. He pauses every time it happens, afterwards, just letting the guitar fill in the holes. Like singing those lines took so much that he needs a reprieve.

          _You said, I could love you if_ , he keeps repeating; it’s the beginning of the chorus. Like love is conditional, or this love, at least. And there are a set reasons on why they can’t work, or why they wouldn’t. Dex lists them, afterwards. Some of them make sense, like _our lips spark fires whenever they touch_ , but then he sings something like _you are the tide I would let pull me under_ and Nursey gets it but he doesn’t at the same time.

          _Broken_ , Dex sings, like he’s never known anything but. Like he’s resigned. Nursey _hates_ it.

          Dex stops, suddenly, after he sings the chorus a second time. The guitar playing stops too, and he coughs. “I told you it was pretty rough,” he says, sheepish. His voice is raw. He knows how much of himself he’s putting out there with this, with a song entirely his own, on a stage by himself.

          The crowd screams, loud enough that the roar of it makes Nursey’s ears ache. He took his earplugs out when he got backstage. Chowder is now speaking directly to his sister, asking about her school day and telling her he’ll come by to visit very soon.

          “You agree?” Dex laughs as they all boo, just teasing them. “I guess I shouldn’t leave you hanging, huh? You want to hear the end of it?” Positive screams probably mean a yes, so Dex sighs. “Alright.”

          The strumming starts up again.

          Dex has always been the best at his harshly honest one-liners, plain and simple and punching. Fists first, Nursey always thinks when he reads those lines. A whole song of Dex’s writing is a bit overwhelming, such blatant emotion in every word, and Nursey feels it everywhere. But the last line of the song leaves him buzzing inside his skin, restless and antsy. _You will always be my best If_.

          The song ends just as Chowder’s phone call does and they rush back onto stage to rescue Dex, who, if the long silence is anything to go by, seems to be floundering.

          “That’s all I’ve got. I don’t have any other random songs in my back pocket. We could…” Dex trails off, noticing Nursey and Chowder returning to the stage. He might be imagining it, but Nursey swears that Dex’s eyes linger on him. It may be stupid, but his gaze holds a weight that pushes the breath out of Nursey’s lungs. He tries not to let himself hope. There is someone that Dex loves, someone he’s written a song about, someone who deserves the look in Dex’s eyes right now.

          Though, the rational part of his brain pipes up, what if that person is…

          Irrational pipes up, says, too out of character for you, R.

          Nursey wonders at what point do voices in the head qualify the need for therapy. Then he remembers he’s already in therapy. He doesn’t know if that makes him feel better or not.

 

*~*~*

 

_Shitty:_

_you better fucking do it_

_Shitty:_

_i swear to all my gods i will kick your ass if you don’t_

_Shitty:_

_love you. good luck_

 

*~*~*

 

          Chowder flew out to California to be with his sister after the end of the concert. They don’t have another concert date for a week, and it’s in Las Vegas, anyway, so it doesn’t really affect anything. Dex and Nursey avoided each other afterwards, though it could just be Nursey avoiding Dex, because he hasn’t tried to talk to Dex enough for him to judge if Dex is actually avoiding him or not. But it’s been two days now and they’re both bored as all hell, so Nursey gave in and walked over to Dex’s hotel room and now they’re sitting on the floor, playing war.

          Dex collects the cards in the middle, his seven overpowering Nursey’s four, and they flip the next cards. Flipping and flipping, silent as the weight of everything they’ve never said presses down on their backs. Nursey rolls his eyes at himself; so dramatic.

          The next pair they flip is a ten, for Nursey, and an ace, for Dex. Nursey reaches down to collect the cards for himself and Dex makes a disgruntled noise.

          “Those are mind,” he says. “Aces are high.”

          Nursey glances up at him. “No, aces are low.” His mind is pulled back to a _Friends_ episode, where Monica and Rachel insist aces are low and Joey and Chandler insist that they’re high. It’s not relevant in the least, but his mind is always trying to make connections.

          “Aces are high, Nurse, literally every card game ever says so.”

          “Fuck off, that’s not true.”

          Dex’s ears turn red, not pink, and it’s the angry flush that signals the beginning of a fight. Sparks start at Nursey’s fingertips. The start of something, at least. “Fuck _you_ , yes it is.”

          Nursey does know how it happens, but one second they’re just arguing over cards and the next, they’re standing feet away from one another _yelling_ about everything they’ve ever fought about.

          “I fucking _hate_ when you buy me things, you pompous dick!” Dex screams somewhere after Nursey brings up Dex being jealous of his wealth.

          “You take your mom for granted, you ungrateful jackass!” Nursey spits when Dex brings up Nursey borrowing his mother.

          “I fucking hate you!” they yell simultaneously at the end of a long, drawn out battle.

          They fall onto the carpeted floor, exhausted. Nursey’s a little surprised that they didn’t get a noise complaint. He pulls his knees into his chest and leans back into the wall behind him, watching Dex, who’s against the opposite wall and curled up the same.

          They stare at one another, what might as well be a mile of carpet between them. Nursey is so tired and his heart aches, maybe the most out of everything that aches. He hates feeling like this but, for Dex, he’d do anything. He hates that, too.

          “I don’t mind sharing my mom,” Dex says, quiet, after a while. “She loves you and I-I think you need that.” It’s a surrender, which they never do. Or never did.

          “I do,” Nursey says, and holds up his own white flag. “I just buy you things to make your life easier. You’ve had it hard, and I want to help.”

          “I can appreciate that. It’s just hard to make my mind believe it.” Dex smiles ruefully and Nursey wants to feel it with his fingers. Press the pad of them into Dex’s lips, memorize the cracks and curves, make a picture in his mind just like that. They’ve done so much touching, though, and very little talking. Touches are easier to speak with, but so hard to understand. He’s better at the hidden meaning stuff. It’s why he writes poetry, he assumes.

          Dex isn’t hidden meaning. He is blatant emotions, always ready to open his mouth and say exactly what he thinks. Except with this, Nursey thinks, only a little bitter. Dex wasn’t something Nursey had to decipher. If he was embarrassed, his skin turned strawberry ice cream pink. When he was mad, a dark red blotchy thing that started on his ears and spread to his cheeks, then his forehead, and stopped. The best was when he was happy; a soft pink, so subtle you might mistake it for a light sunburn, that moved all the way down to his chest. Nursey always wants to kiss that flush.

         Nursey has loved many people in his lifetime. Not all of them have loved him back, and he knows that’s a part of life, but it hurts, anyway. Dex might be the worst, which is silly because Nursey is sure that his parents’ indifference is the worst thing he will ever experience. Dex _does_ love him, but not in the _right way_. It’s not the absence of, but the difference to. Nursey loves having Dex’s love, it’s one of the best things in his life, and he wouldn’t change it for anything. But it’s platonic love, not romantic, and he knows it’s just as good but. But.

          “Who is the song about?” Nursey asks after a while of silence. He needs to know, even if it’s not him. Especially if it’s not him.

          Dex looks up. Previously, he had his chin resting on his knees, eyes downward. The little lines between his forehead were there, still are. Nursey still wants to smooth them away with his fingers. Even in his mind, touches are his first instinct. He wonders if the kind of love Dex has for him would allow such an action. Then he remembers why he thinks in touches, first.

          They’re so ridiculous, Nursey thinks. They both have careers based on their ability to write, utilize words in fun and creative ways, and neither of them knows how to speak to each other. But, of course, the other part of their careers is speaking through notes, and that’s physical in a way, isn’t it?

          “You,” Dex says, as Nursey’s comparing touches and music notes. He can feel both, in different ways, and both are much easier than words. But music is more than just _feeling_ , it’s patterns and listening and maybe even math. Maybe music is kind of like coding, in a way, and maybe that’s why Dex- “Nursey? Tell me that’s okay, please, I-I need it to be okay.”

          “What?” Nursey looks up, the numbers fluttering away from his vision.

          “I know it’s not-I mean, I know you don’t feel that way, or whatever. But. You asked. So.” Dex pulls his legs in closer. He looks so tightly compact that it hurts. Nursey knows he isn’t dreaming because his subconscious would never make Dex that uncomfortable.

          “The song. _Oblivion_. It’s about me?” Nursey needs the clarification. He can’t misunderstand this and, anyway, as many words they can get out the better. It means they’re breaking old habits.

          “Yeah,” Dex says, eyes down again. Nursey loves his eyes, how bright they can get. They can look like fire in the right light, or if Dex is passionate enough. Nursey’s never seen eyes that color before, or since he met Dex. Amber, gold almost. It’s an anomaly in the most beautiful sense of the word.

          “I love you,” Nursey says. “I love you more than any words can say, or words I can come up with. I try to steal other people’s words and make them fit, but they don’t. You are so unique and beautiful and no one could possibly understand and-and I hate that I can’t put it into words. I’m not good with words when it comes to you. Which is dumb, because I’m mostly words. Or I’m supposed to be. You make me speechless. You are my exception.”

          Dex blinks at him. It’s now that Nursey notices that they’re still across the room from each other. One of them will have to move first. Nursey doesn’t know if he can. His parents always shut him down whenever he reached out, so he stopped. Dex isn’t his parents- Dex is maybe the farthest thing away from his parents- but the fear is still there. Dex must know this, or he’s brave enough, because he starts crawling over and he stops in front of Nursey, kneeling.

          “I-I’m not good at words, and I already wrote you a whole God damned song, but I know you like words. So, uh, here. I love you so much it scares me and I like to think nothing scares me. I don’t want you to feel unwanted or be lonely because I want you to be happy, always. Which is dumb. But I feel it anyway. And I know I can’t be the only thing, but I wish I could be. I wish I could be everything. For you.”

          It’s the most they’ve said to one another about this, ever. Nursey feels so acutely several emotions pertaining to the situation, but he doesn’t want to say it. He thinks that Dex knows.

          “You’re not my everything,” Nursey says, curling his fingers around Dex’s wrist. “But you’re a lot.”

          “That’s okay.” Dex smiles, a soft tiny thing that Nursey wishes he could keep in his pocket to take out whenever. “You’re a lot, too.”

          Nursey leans forward and kisses him, allowing himself to make the first move. Not much is worth it, but Dex. Well.

 

*~*~*

 

_Shitty @bsknight_

_Look at Mr. Lobster here! Selling a song before we got the rights. The @Ranae boys are so troublesome._

_Dex P. @wjpoindexter_

_We are a bunch, aren’t we? ;) @bsknight “Look at Mr. Lobster here! Selling a song before we got the rights. The @Ranae boys…”_

 

*~*~*

 

          “ _I can’t help, falling in love-with-you_ ,” Dex croons, guitar in his lap as he reclines on Nursey’s couch. Nursey shakes his head, plopping down next to him.

          “Sap,” he says, gesturing a mug of coffee at Dex. There’s milk in it, because he’s lying so hard when he says he likes it black. Well, he does like it black. Half black. Nursey snorts at his own pun. “And unoriginal.”

          “I already wrote you a song,” Dex says, humming contently as he takes a sip of his coffee. “And Elvis is the penultimate of romantic gestures.”

          “Penultimate,” Nursey hums. “Nice word.” He pushes his socked feet into the side of Dex’s thigh. Dex nudges back, but leaves them. “And stop referencing _Oblivion_ like I haven’t written novels about you.”

          “You speak in love songs, that’s no feat.” Dex smiles at him, a warm and sleepy one that Nursey only gets over coffee in the mornings. Dex has so many smiles and Nursey has yet to find one he doesn’t like.

          “My love for you is so strong and so constant that it’s carved canyons in my heart that I will forever jump into, headfirst, unafraid, content.” It’s not on the fly, as Nursey wrote a poem last week with that line in it, but Dex rolls his eyes, his cheeks pinking up. It looks sweet, so Nursey leans in, kisses his cheek, and then licks his lips. Sweet. He was right.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed! Comments and kudos are always appreciated so feel free to leave either!  
> Yes, you guessed it, Nursey was quoting Bon Jovi at one point. Dex is such a terrible influence.  
> Alcoholism warnings- it's very minor, but Nursey does have some issues with alcohol abuse, but it's not addiction based and he does get help with it through therapy and outside catalysts. His experience with therapy is not depicted in detail and his issues with mental health are very minor.  
> Thank you for reading!


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